there is a fine line between being kind and being naive that people often mistakenly thinks they are the same but let me tell you something—being kind is treating someone with your utmost respect while being naive, well, it's the same as being kind; only you will forget to put yourself first.

he’s drunk in love
knocks on her door
when it falls apart

how come i perceive?
her feverish face
while his tongue flicks;
the truth and secrets—

her kisses, her touch, her;
i can tell everything is a necessity
how you move your body enticingly

everything is nothing to you
she kisses you because it's true—
you’re everything to her while you
only loved the moon.

your storms—
something my eyes
is willing to see

something i've learned—
nothing is coincidence.
no one is born by accident.

it is only a matter of time;
for the years we asked why
and for the times we stayed up all night

does her face
still flashes
when you close
your eyes?

does her name
still put a smile
on your lips
despite every lie?

do you only remember
my name when you're
drunk and tired?
—when you can't call her "mine".

i want to hear
your voice
when i'm alone
at night past two;

i want to ask
too many questions
but you don't
want me to;

i want to know
if she's still the one
but i already
figured out the truth.

words haven't spilled yet
your silence is loud and clear.

sorrowful chapters are necessary
let me protect the situation
it wasn't the stabs that cut deeply
no one speaks about it; what a shame.

he thinks i am confusing and complicated. someone he can stare at for hours but someone he's afraid to open up his heart to.

if only he knew how much i love simple things; like the pure beauty of kindness and affection that feeds my soul; like handwritten letters and frank sinatra songs that mesmerizes me; like jazz and the sound of the rain that calms my mind.

if only he knew, i just want to be loved—faithfully, unconditionally and truly. no secrets, no lies. nothing in between.

if only he knew, like scenery and arts, i'll love him as long as i can.

if i survive this drought,
does it make me tough?
or does it make me cruel
for not calling your name?